They twist and they shout for the boys in the band

I feel funny writing this entry. I'm afraid it's going ot make me look like a wannabe groupie. And I'm not. It's not snobbery, either. But I'm not a groupie. I don't want to sleep with band members. Don't want to have their babies. Don't even want to be best friends with them. Hell, I would have to talk to them for any of that to happen. I don't. I go to enough gigs that if I did, I'd actually probably be guest-listed at this point. Only rarely when I have something specific to say do I attempt it. And even then, I wind up walking away feeling like a moron. And slightly dirty.

But there is something I've been wondering about band/'fan' interaction.

See, I like the wrong kind of music for living in New York City. Or the right kind, depending on how you look at it. If I want to hear British indie bands on the radio, I'm out of luck. But if I want to go to a gig and see a band that's big or exploding over in the UK in a small venue, I've hit the jackpot. There are a few times when I go to gigs and there are a bunch of people there. Sometimes the room is full. Sometimes there are even actually other people there who know the band. Often, even when it's full, the hipsters hold to the code of cooler-than-thou and would rather be caught dead than look like they're enjoying themselves. And so, more often than not, it's my friends and I, along with a handful of other people, who are dancing, jumping, singing. In cornier words, supporting the band.

And then there are other instances. Take for example a recent gig I went to for a band I like a lot. It was at a tiny venue in the Lower East Side. The band is so unknown here that they were hanging out at the bar during the first two sets without anyone ever realizing that they would soon be on stage. My friend actually wound up chatting with the drummer, and he even said that no one knew who they were. When they took the stage, the room was not nearly full. Far from it. And my friend and I were standing in the center, well enough back so that we didn't have to stand right in front of the stage, but no one was in front of us, and no one was in back of us. And we proceeded to rock out along with the band. In clear view of them. And we were the only ones.

Now, what I'm wondering is, in either situation, where you are visibe to the band, you clearly are familiar with their music, and are, supposedly, letting them know that at least someone in the audience is enjoying their set...and then they see you after... Ok, what I'm saying is, I would want to talk to those people. As my friend said, at least to find out how they found out about the band. In the case of the unknown band, they were hanging out at the bar afterwards again. A table separated me from the lead singer, who, minutes before I had been singing along to. But nothing. As MD said, "Is it uncool to be excited or into something? Uncool to show appreciation of it? What gives?"

I know that it's not fair to expect something like that, and it's not expectation. Not at all. It's more bewilderment. Some people are just shy or reticent. But is it something that's just not done in the rock star handbook? Do you only speak to people if they speak to you first? Is it the fish out of water thing, where being in a different country, you just feel so out of your element that you don't approach anyone? Or maybe it's true, that, even in venues where there aren't spotlights blinding the bandmembers, that they don't really see the first few rows of people. So even if you're standing right in front of them, even if you've made eye contact or sung along together, they really don't see you. It's something I don't think I'll ever understand. Even if just being in the best interests of the band to cultivate that support base in a hostile country? It's one of those showbiz mysteries, I guess.

Though obviously it's not the point of any of it.

The Semi-Attractive Undertow

Last night I ventured out to Williamsburg for the second go-round of The Gorgeous Undertow. The name is borrowed from British Sea Power’s song “Carrion” (my favorite song of theirs), and they’re advertised as “a club night of new British music for New York ears,” but if you go expecting that, you’ll be disappointed.

When we got there, the Royal Oak was sparsely populated, dimly lit, with music playing in the background. I checked the back room where I have been to a party previously with a dj and lot of people dancing, and it was empty. I re-joined my friends at the bar, and one of them asked the bartender what the deal was. He pointed at these people at the end of the bar who were fiddling with some things and indicated that was “them.” iPod djs extraordinaire. We waited for a bit to see what they had in store, and after a few songs I couldn’t place, the familiar strains of the Kaiser Chiefs’ “I Predict A Riot” started playing. A nice string of songs followed, during which a friend and I got up and jumped around a bit, being the only ones there doing so. Some requests of ours were played, and more jumping around ensued. Eventually we just sat down, the djs switched, and the music got bad, and we left.

Really, The Gorgeous Undertow is a glorified listening party at a nice local bar that filled up as the night went on, though there was no way of knowing if it was just locals coming out or people coming for the “festivities.” If I hadn’t been all geared up for a night of dancing to music that I love, and instead had been expecting a chill night of drinking while listening to that same music, I probably would have had a great time. It’s a bit out of the way to go just to be able to drink to good music, but it is only once a month. We’ll see if the fancy strikes me again next month.

But can someone now make an actual British indie club night? Anyone? Please? I’ll be your best friend.

The Arctic Who?

The Arctic Monkeys are going to save rock and roll.

Or so everone tells us.

Armed with this alarming/hopeful information, a vague memory of their set at Leeds festival, and many recent hours of playing and enjoying their tunes, I ventured out to see them at both their New York shows. I anticipated the Mercury Lounge show (and their first show in the US) to be the better of the two, since it was a smaller, more intimate venue, as well as being 21+. I've been to shows there that have been filled with Brits, so I expected them to make up the majority of the audience. Instead, it wound up being the Bowery Ballroom show that was a veritable hometown reunion.

The first show put off several people, including the band themselves, as it turned out to be mostly industry wankers, and the crowd lacked enthusiasm (other than near drunken hooliganism.) Despite the conversation we had with these very enthusiastic large gentlemen behind us before the show, one of whom swore that there hadn't been a band like this since The Who. Standing up front, singing along with Alex Turner, jumping around with a girl next to me from Sheffield, I didn't notice that much. I noticed it in the band's attitude, though. Aloof on stage, though still interacting with the audience, they seemed skeptical of us, rather than the other way around. Maybe it was because it seemed all these big muckety-mucks were there to see what the hype was all about, or maybe it was because they all believed it, and didn't really care if it was true. They played an eleven song set plus intro, with no encore. They didn't play one of the fan favorites, "Mardy Bum," which actually quite bummed me out, as it's one of my favorites (and I managed to steal a second of Turner's time after the show to request it for the next night, and actually even got a second of his attention during that time). The lack of encore made the slight even more acute, but who knows how bands decide whether they're going to be one of those bands that do or don't? But the music was tight, the music rocked, and that should be all that mattered, right? The only reason that you came...

Wrong. I was floored at the difference between the two shows. Hanging around at the bar downstairs before the doors opened, you could tell just by listening to the various dialectic British accents that this crowd was going to be different. Despite the fact that apparently David Bowie, Muse, and Mike Skinner were there as well. But how would that affect the show? Riotously, that's how. From the second song on, a group of people shoved their way to the front, and proceeded to turn this show into a British gig, replete with shoving and singing along. Which apparently the band loved. More "on," more inspired, they played even better than the first night. Alex asked where people were from, and raised an eyebrow when several of the answers screamed out were, "Sheffield!" This is what they're used to, and we got to see them in their element. Turner even took the piss out of the industry people there, noting, "There's a balcony tonight. There weren't one last night." He commented on how he usually feels bad, that the people on the floor have the bad seats, and the people in the balcony have the good seats. He also noted how, in this case, that's quite true - "There's even a velvet rope and shit, isn't there?" A bit later on he asked who gets to be up in the balcony? Record execs? Journalists? After dedicating "Fake Tales of San Francisco" to "Sheffield," he also took a pot shot at the balcony elite by singing, "There's a few bored faces in the top all wishing they weren't there." Can't argue with that one.

The set list was the same as the night before, "View from the Afternoon," "Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor," "Still Take You Home," "Dancing Shoes," "Fake Tales of San Francisco," "You Probably Couldn't See," "From the Ritz to the Rubble," "Vampires Is A Bit Strong But...," and "Sun Goes Down," (aka "Scummy"). At the Mercury Lounge, their penultimate song was "Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured" instead of the slated "Mardy Bum." The big moment came last night, the question that was hanging in the air for me, and calls for "Mardy Bum" had been coming all night, either because the news they hadn't played it had spread or just because it's the song everyone calls out. When the first few chords started, I have to admit, I squealed like an excited child. (It wasn't until afterwards that I started to resent it.) They ended with the nearly epic "A Certain Romance," and for a split second it seemed as if they were going to play an encore this time, but then the house lights came on, dashing our hopes.

I was quite conflicted. As a music fan, I was on a high from a great show. Last night's show allowed me to see what it is that the people in the know see in this band. Alex Turner has musical talent and presence well beyond his 19 years. The other band members remained silent both nights, allowing Alex to be the focus of attention and bear the weight of having to banter, having to be the showman. With the audience responding "correctly," I got to see a bit of his cocksure attitude, and see him really put on a performance. But as a New Yorker, and to a different degree, as an American, I resented the fact that it took an audience that was at least half British to elicit this performance. Last night's crowd 'earned' "Mardy Bum" - I would never flatter myself to think he played it because I asked the night before. But they can't expect every crowd to be like a crowd from the country where they've had a #1 single and who has known their music for a while. They're supposed to be winning over Americans, not playing to Brits. They're supposed to be winning us over, not vice versa. Maybe their attitude isn't just an attitude, and they really don't care about having any success here - if the record company wants to bring them over, they'll play, but they're not fussed about "breaking" America.

That said, if they come back, and to a town near you, go see them. Preferably see them with a primarily British audience. If that can be arranged. But don't do it for the hype, because hype is only ever an illusion. And what's left after that's gone is the music. Their songs are readily available all over the internet. Find them. Learn them. Live them. You won't be able to get them out of your head. There's a reason why they are touted as the next saviors of rock and roll, and it's not because they can take down record execs a few pegs.

Just don't expect them to be The Who.

Haven’t read the NME in so long

An American’s journey on the New Musical Express
Soundtrack: Art Brut

Don’t know what genre we belong
Yes, even being American, I’m well aware that the NME is evil incarnate. The thing about it...it’s so unlike American music magazines. And yes, tabloid-ish. But still, it’s so British. The first issue I ever read was the fannish inquisition with Franz Ferdinand. I couldn’t stop laughing. I’d never read a magazine like that. The humor, the derision. I mean, even the captions take the piss. I guess since I’m not under the long arm, or having to live amongst the people it brainwashes, I just see it as a magazine. Certainly not journalism, but it serves a purpose.

I don’t read it very often (the price tag here - $5.50!! - is enough of a deterrent), but I pick it up once in a while if there’s something I’m interested in. Come to think of it, I think this is only the third time. This time it was a teeny tiny piece on Dirty Pretty Things, Carl Barât’s new band. Happened to be the issue with the Arctic Monkeys on the cover (how cocky does Alex look??). I bought in on Thursday, in this little news seller in SoHo...and it was the only copy left. Apparently I wasn’t the only one aware of the hype. My copy was a bit damaged, but I decided to get it anyway. (I guess this means I'm not selling it on ebay...haha)

If memory serves, we’re still on a break
Pages 6-7: Carlbând coverage
Well, it might as well be called that, for all they talked to the other members. I am excited about this band. Maybe cause I get to be in on it from the ground floor. The live recordings I’ve heard sound promising. Carl’s lack of confidence and ego always amazes me. I enjoyed this, particularly – they asked him if having three people singing at once are a reflection of how the songs were written, and he answered, “They’ve come up with parts and stuff, they’ve certainly had an input because we’re a band. That’s why we didn’t come out as ‘Carl Barât’. And I hate my name!”

Of course they played up the fact that he used the word “hiatus” when referring to the Libertines, and he admitted that another album is a possibility. Bloody tease.

It’s got nothing to do with anything I’ve had to drink/It’s more to do with the way I think
Flipping through: Oh, the ads, the ads. All those singles. I’ve lamented recently on the lack of a singles market in America. *is jealous*

Who the fuck is Charlie Simpson? All I know about Fightstar is that they were the big joke at Leeds and people wanted to see them to throw things at them.

I just wanna find a drug that works
Pages 18-19: the Letters page, edited by Barry Nicholson

(Barry Nicholson, I just think of that picture someone once posted on a forum asking who he was, and how all the girls thought he was so hot. And someone on the forum is friends with him. Bizarre. His editorial interjections make me laugh, though. Oh yeah, he can edit my letters any day.)

Blah blah blah Pete Doherty blah blah blah

Stay off the crack

There's a noise in his head and he's out of control
Pages 20-21: Lupen Crook
Here’s one that escaped the child psychologists. Although he’s probably doing all of it to get a reaction, that’s what people like him do. I downloaded two songs by him, though I haven’t listened to them yet, but others were saying they were quite good.

I did like his insight, “If you shone a certain type of light in this room, you’d be able to see a tangle of ideas and thoughts bouncing around the room. Some would be jagged, some would be pearly. Some would head off into outer space for 3,000 years before bouncing back off a mirror and hitting someone else in the head on the way down.” It’s always people like him who come up with brilliant things like that off the top of their heads.

Formed a band, we formed a band/Look at us, we formed a band
Pages 26-29: Arctic Monkeys (aka not just the next big thing)

This band is one of the favorite thing for music enthusiasts to argue about these days. The real thing or hype? Does it matter? Perhaps my favorite part of the article was this sentence, “While Alex Kapranos busies himself namechecking Aleksandr Rodchenko, Arctic Monkeys write songs for you and me.” It’s true. For someone who is anti-elitism, Kapranos throws around obscure references that are quite elitist. They call Alex Turner a lyrical genius, and I suppose if you live in Britain he is. To me, his lyrics are straightforward, not overly profound, but they apparently encapsulate a whole existence for Brits. His social commentary is lost on Americans, but lucky for him, the songs are still accessible and quite enjoyable. Of course, the paragraph goes on to say that “Arctic Monkeys write songs for you and me...for people who aren’t from New York City.” Oh well, sucks to be me, I guess.

I love the dialect. I have never before heard/read/seen “were” used as “was” before, but they say it often, and it’s just a bit charming. (But of course any British dialect is charming to an American, eh?)

Caption of the issue is one for a picture of the guys, with Alex holding a pint, “When the royalties come flooding in, the Monkeys will be able to afford a pint of beer each.” AND there’s a picture of them onstage at Leeds. That’s more of them on stage then I saw actually being there.

Sometimes it’s hard to stop, when your heart is set on top of the pops, top of the pops

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Interlude
Popular culture no longer applies to me

Arctic Monkeys and The Paddingtons back to back... I feel so old. Some of these bands, it’s borderline pedophilia for me to look at any of the bandmembers twice. Truth be told, I’ve noticed that lately, instead of being gripped with the desire to have their babies – with a few notable exceptions – I’m instead gripped with the desire to FEED them. Jesus, are they skinny. (Yes, the transformation into my mother has begun.)
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Stop buying your albums from the supermarket
Pages 37-43: The reviews...I read the album reviews in Entertainment Weekly this week (we don’t do singles, remember?), too. I could cry at the difference of names listed. But anyway.

Test Icicles. Really, it’s so obvious, it’s almost not funny. The review rocks, though, for having the nerve to say that the Beatles weren’t all that. Amen, son.

Reading the review for Arcade Fire’s Wake Up, “Something Filled up my heart with nothing/Someone told me not to cry...I guess they’ll just have to adjust,” I’ve realized that I like their lyrics more than I like their music. Lucky I read that or I would never have known how beautiful they are.

But the Kaiser Chief’s Modern Way “sublime?!” Uh, okay, if you say so.

It’s not irony and it’s not rock and roll, we’re just talking to the kids
Pages 46-58: Gig reviews and ads

The NME Rock’n’Roll Riot Tour. I would have loved to have seen this, just for another chance to see Maxïmo Park. I’m jealous. They’re so good when they’re here, but I just bet they save something extra for their home shows. Boo. But I’ve made a convert. A good friend of mine went to the show in Glasgow, with the Kaiser Chiefs and The Cribs being two of her favorite bands, she said that if MP are as good as I say, they have a lot to live up to for her. Afterwards, she greeted me with, “How good are Maxeeemo? Hello my new favorite live band, I love you.” *smug* And you’ve gotta love a frontman who is bookish, reads the lyrics from a book on stage when he loses his “little red book,” and admits that the only time he’d visited the Apollo in Manchester was for an English conference. *loves* “Whisper it, Maxïmo Park are becoming a big band.” Sigh/yay.

Runner up caption of the issue is for a picture of Ricky Kaisers crowdsurfing: “An inflatable brontosaurus is lifted above the throng during the Kaisers’ set.” Ok, so his face is a bit chubby, but why does everyone persist in calling him fat?

And, OH. MY. GOD. RYAN CRIBS. IS. WEARING. THAT. SAME. DAMN. SHIRT. Complete with new (and old, I’m sure) beer stains. Someone teach that boy how to do laundry!!

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Interlude 2
I don’t wanna girl that’s with the band/I just want a girl who’s gonna hold my hand

These girls at the shows, how do they all look so damn stylish? Man. You know, if I looked more like that, maybe I’d actually go over and talk to the band members after shows. Or not. Depends on whether I have a sandwich with me.
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There’s not much glam about the English weather
Sigh. All these ads for gigs. I want to move to the UK just for the music scene. Irony being, I get to see these bands in smaller venues than people there have been able to for ages. I just have to wait longer for them to get here, and it takes more time in between.

There’s no shame in giving in
Is it awful to admit that I’ve actually really enjoyed this issue? Yes? Oh well, don’t tell anyone, okay?